


Worst birthday present ever

by V6ilill



Series: With Saviors Like These, Who Needs Salvation? [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adoption, Crack, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V6ilill/pseuds/V6ilill
Summary: “Sweet young things like to give this one kittens as keepsakes,” says Eye of the Queen Razum-dar, “but raising a pet is not consistent with Raz’s romantic but itinerant life of intrigue. Perhaps you could give cute Ja’khajiit a good home, yes?”- Crown store descriptionQuestion is, which type of ja'khajiit is it: the kitten ... or the sentient kitten?To the great misfortune of two vestiges, it is the latter.
Relationships: Two-Vestige disaster duo, Vestige & Razum-dar
Series: With Saviors Like These, Who Needs Salvation? [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871929
Kudos: 9





	Worst birthday present ever

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe it took me two days to write this

“I understand that you take your duties as eye of the Queen very seriously,” said one Vestige to another “But you really shouldn’t fraternize with that cat.”

“Raz is a true professional!” Ku’rib-andiit protested “and a great drinking buddy! Did you know that bosmer have the best milk?”

“And he mailed me a cat,” Vindriniel complained “Which he named ‘this one’! I wouldn’t call my left slipper that, let alone a living being!”

“This one wouldn’t call naming shoes after dead elf kings much better,” the sorcerer shook his head “Where is this cat you speak of? And is it a Cyrodilic mouser or a giant senche-lion?”

“Ja’khajiit-something. A kitten, I think,” the templar looked around warily “I only deal in pedigreed Alinor grimalkins. I put it there, but the bastard ran off, didn’t it? Damn foreign animals.”

“Language, Vin,” Ku’rib chided, seeming distracted by an important thought.

“Says a former Worm cultist. Also, it is improper to nickname and Altmer unless you are either a relative of the first, second or third degree, or an unofficial confidant,” Vindriniel, despite his high and refined heritage, lowered himself to look under a bench.

“How fortunate this one was not born an elf,” the sorcerer shared his conclusion “But one must wonder, Vin, why you do not trust Ku’rib? You wound this one grievously.”

“Our relationship is strictly professional,” the altmer answered mechanically “Don’t just stand here and watch me crawl in the mud like a common bosmer! Your arms are longer than mine!”

“This one is too large and muscular to fit into cat hidey-holes,” Ku’rib flexed his impressive bicep.

“How you can hide from the guards in those laundry baskets I’ll never know,” Vindriniel muttered “It’s not like those abs do you any good, you don’t even use weapons.”

“A healing staff is more than enough to beat up bandits,” the khajiit disagreed, continuing to loiter “This one thinks your ax is overkill. It’s not like Vin kills with it anyway, since the glowstick is much more useful.”

“That nickname again,” the altmer stood, dusting off his fine robes with a grimace “And my signature ability is called an Aedric Spear. With how much we slay together, you ought to know better.”

“This one sees a tail,” Ku’rib pointed somewhere to the left.

“Not his own, of course,” the khajiit clarified, just to be safe. Elves weren’t nearly as smart as they looked.

“Aha! There it is!” Vindriniel leaped at the kitten like he habitually charged Daedric titans and elder vampires “None may escape the cleansing light!”

“Meow!” said ja’khajiit Raz, but he was no match for the templar’s power “Meow!!!”

“This is the alley-dweller Razum-dar foisted onto me,” Vindriniel held the squirming kitten in his outstretched arms, presenting it like a deadly Ayleid artifact “Something about him not having the lifestyle for pets. As if I can lug this critter around Tamriel myself!”

“. . . this is no pet,” Ku’rib-andiit suddenly grew serious “this is a khajiit cub.”

The powerful storm wizard took the surprised kitten from his elf ally and began purring aggressively.

“What are you doing?” Vindriniel, still recovering from being gifted a small child, asked shakily.

“Hush! This one is talking to the ja’khajiit,” Ku’rib hissed and continued aggressively purring to the kitten, who meowed back.

“This one must have a pleasant chat with Raz, yes?” Ku’rib smiled again, showing his neat rows of fangs “Be a good elf and buy Reboshka here some meat, yes?”

“Wait, so he speak-” the templar began, but was quickly handed back the kitten, Ku’rib disappearing like the trained thief he was.

“Why must the Queen, in all her well-bred wizdom, consort with the khajiit? Couldn’t we have a Dominion without their damn variety?” Vindriniel prepared an enlightening lecture on the superiority of the altmer people to the confusing catfolk, but promptly realized his only audience was the kitten and a stoned bosmer in a nearby ditch. The speech would have to wait.

Vindriniel sighed with resignation, resolving to look into the matters of a retirement fund. He set Reboshka down and began shuffling to the marketplace. The child, for all of his fur, was intelligent enough to follow in the general direction of Vindriniel’s tortured sighs. Unfortunately, the altmer’s finely-shaped legs and rational mind lead him not towards the meat stalls, but towards the local in and its Alinor ale. Vindriniel poured himself a cup, heart still aflutter as he calculated how much feeding a growing child would cost, then another to begin his valiant journey into impromptu parenthood, then another to better figure out the locations of prospective orphanages, and another . . . and another . . .

-

Surprisingly enough, Razum-dar made no secret of his presence at the local inn. Ku’rib entered through the window (how his enormous frame could maneuver through it remains unknown), coughed menacingly at the serving girl when she asked him what flavor of intoxicating piss he wanted and took a seat on his friend’s table.

“Ah, this one was expecting you!” Raz smiled “Why not try a chair? Or a nice brew?”

“Ku’rib knows the local inn too well to order anything,” the larger khajiit began toying with his braids, trying (and failing) to look casual and harmless “Vin received the gift, but the ja’khajiit nearly escaped him. This one humbly asks you to never leave any pets with the elf, ever. He is too good an armrest to get eaten, yes?”

“As you say, friend, though Raz prefers softer elbow rests. Did Vin catch on?”

“He did not. Needs more practice, still. Glowstick good, yes, very stabby, but not the solution to everything.”

Vindriniel chose that exact moment to enter the incredibly reputable establishment most certainly dignified enough to withstand his finely cultivated heritage. He ordered a wine which was clearly made from only the finest grapes, and began daintily emptying the glass at breakneck speed.

“There they are,” Raz whistled to the server and ordered an ale, lounging in the creaking chair like a king on his throne “Vin does not look the like of a great kittensitter, yes?”

“Little ones are fine on their own. Grow like weed in the backyard. Ku’rib would know, he has many brothers and sisters,” the sorcerer’s gaze grew distant for a moment “Had many brothers and sisters. Much more importantly, where you find Reboshka, friend? And even more importantly, surely the Queen’s most faithful agent would know of a nice orphanage in the woods somewhere?”

“Raz had just graciously rescued a lost maiden, as is his way, when he learned to his great dismay that she was no maiden. She had no coin to spare either, and repaid Raz’s kindness with a gift. This one accepted the gift and promised to find the ja’khajiit a good home. Sadly, the local orphanages are all run by altmer. Mineshafts are not good for growing khajiit, yes?”

Vindriniel interrupted their musings on ideal childrearing by headbutting the table. It remained unknown why his dignified blood had called for him to do it. Reboshka, sitting on the table, sniffed the wineglass, and stuck his tongue in for a taste.

“No!” Ku’rib shouted, streaking across the room. He grabbed the misbehaving child by the scruff, beginning his (rather short and uninformative, as Vindriniel would call it) lecture on alcohol.

“Hungry!” Reboshka hissed back, entirely unintimidated “Likes nice water!”

“That cat singed my dress!” a bosmer (whose clothing in truth more resembled a bikini) wailed.

“A rogue storm wizard,” the bartender noted “How interesting.”

Ku’rib, sensing that it was only a matter of time before the guards arrived, grabbed his newfound kitten, his blackout drunk friend, and removed himself from the very classy establishment by way of window. Vindriniel required some positioning to fit, but Reboshka was a natural escape artist, which he promptly demonstrated by disappearing into the bushes.

“Come back! This one cannot chase you now!” Ku’rib slung his unconscious friend over his shoulder, but the ja’khajiit was not intimidated in the slightest “Or there will be no food!”

At the mention of food, Reboshka’s ears perked up and he emerged messily from the barrel he had wedged himself in, dried leaves of some kind clinging to his fur. After Ku’rib cleaned him of the probably-not-drugs-just-totally-normal-plants, the two khajiit and one hammered elf walked into the light of the setting sun.

The end.

-

“Reboshka,” Ku’rib examined his newly-adopted kitten “Is Razum-dar your father?”

“Hero-man is dad?” the child meowed in wonder.

“This one was just asking you that,” the sorcerer stared “And he is no hero.”

“Hero-man is not dad?” Reboshka blinked.

“Ku’rib doesn’t know, he just said that” the wizard shut down the discussion “Come, let’s find the best kabobs in town.”

After messily emptying a plate of its meaty contents, Reboshka turned contemplative. He examined his claws, seeming lost and alone.

“Is mom okay?” he turned to Ku’rib “Nobody protect her now from bad people.”

“This one will ask his friends for help,” Ku’rib offered “Where did you live?”

“Big red house!” the kitten explained, very proud of himself for such a precise description.

“Sounds like a nice place,” the sorcerer nodded “What color are the houses around it?”

-

That night, the local brothel very tragically burned down from a stray lightning strike. The sky was not stormy in the slightest, but no one had been awake enough to say for sure. Miraculously, the only victim of the fire was the pimp, who was found charred in his room. All of the staff were unharmed, but khajiit were said to have excellent hearing and smell. Some said a very angry and black khajiit was seen leaving right before the utterly unexpected fire, but that was probably just a client. The day after the tragedy, a mysterious benefactor, moved by the misfortune of the prostitutes, generously donated them a portion of his undeniably large wealth.

This had absolutely nothing to do with the son of one whore getting adopted on the same night by a very large black khajiit.

-

Vindriniel woke up very tired for some reason, as if he had been up the entire night playing with a rambunctious small child. He also possessed a pounding headache, just like he got when a daedroth had bitten his face off. The Vestige groaned, poking his head. Mouth? Present. Nose? Still there. Eyes? Definitely in place (ow ow yowch).

Vindriniel opened his eyes to find himself being methodically licked clean of honey by a large cat while half-submerged in a muddy ditch. The templar’s combat reflexes kicked in and he quickly stood up, throwing off the loathsome animal.

“Be gentle with my son,” Ku’rib chided him and the kitten meowed condemningly.

Vindriniel made a sound halfway between a strangled gasp and a scream of terror.

This one will repay you his debt soon,” the sorcerer continued “Twelve thousand septims is no money at all, yes?”

Vindriniel choked, falling back down into the ditch with a resounding thud.

-

“No, you cannot play with the dangerous Ayleid relic, it is  _ dangerous _ ,” Vindirniel glared at his young travelling companion “Very dangerous.”

Reboshka pouted, looking down to lick his paw.

Ku’rib smiled to himself, juggling the glowy stones he had pried off a wall somewhere. After so many years, he had a family again. It was as if a piece of his littlest brother lived again within another child.

“Your hisses need some work,” Ku’rib remarked to his friend.

“Gods, why? Out of all the things I now have to do,  _ why _ must I suffer the indignity of  _ learning to purr like a cat _ ?!”

Reboshka blinked, staring back up at the extravagantly-dressed elf.

“Vin is being dramatic again,” Ku’rib explained.

Vindriniel launched a tirade on his exceedingly sane and rational outlook on life. Reboshka and Ku’rib both listened with faint smiles, right until the kitten found a scamp to chase and the templar’s attention was once again redirected.

-

“Greetings, cavedwelling friends, this one has a favor to ask,” said Ku’rib, holding Reboshka in one hand and supporting Vindriniel with the other.

“I’m not a-” said Lyris, but realized the futility of arguing against an undeniable truth of life “What do you want?”

“This one would like to leave Vin in your nice, safe cave while he runs errands,” the wizard explained “Poor Vin has been run ragged trying to parent little Reboshka here. I told Vin it was too early to begin expanding on proper table manners, but he is much too diligent to listen.”

At this, the half-conscious elf made the face of a dying goblin and toppled over.

“...I see,” said Lyris.

“I don’t,” said the Prophet.

“Good! Then we shall go. Here is some rope if Vin wants to hero on his own,” Ku’rib produced a long rope ladder from his shirt. How it fit in there was unknown.

“Wait wait wait, aren’t you leaving the child too?” Lyris stopped him “And where did you get a ten-foot rope ladder?”

“Reboshka is a smart ja’khajiit, he can stay out of danger. Right, buddy?” the kitten meowed, which Ku’rib took as confirmation “See? He knows when to run and hide. Nothing like Vin, who just  _ has _ to leap into the maws of bears and conjurers. This one cannot possibly look after such a hero on his errand!”

The two khajiit took the ensuing seconds of silence as a cue to literally vanish into smoke. Vindriniel and the rope, unfortunately, didn’t follow.

“...maybe you should contact another soulless adventurer,” said Lyris, after staring at a wall for two minutes.

“They don’t get much saner, I’m afraid,” the seer shook his head “Or would you prefer working with a naive treehugging orc and the undead teenager who inexplicably follows her around?”

Lyris examined the sleeping elf (who, as it turned out, slept with his eyes open. Eyes that stared straigh into your soul…) and came to the conclusion that she needed a freaking drink. Honor alone wouldn’t get her through this mess.

The two khajiit continued on their merry way, to the great misfortune of anyone sufficiently evil.


End file.
